


Next Floor

by inkheartcm



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Writing Prompt, not sure what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkheartcm/pseuds/inkheartcm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the writing prompt "Imagine your OTP stuck in an elevator after they’ve had a fight." First work that I'm posting in this fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Floor

The elevator doors slide shut with a soft whoosh and started to rise. The two men using it took refuge on opposite sides of the lift. Trying to put as much distance between themselves as was possible in the small space. Porthos slouched against the rail in the back corner, arms crossed across his chest. He was glaring at the wall, ignoring Aramis, who was standing next to the floor buttons and kept fiddling with his hands. Putting them in his pocket, running them through his hair, tapping on the railing behind his back.

He kept glancing at Porthos. Aramis never dealt well when Porthos gave him the silent treatment. Which Porthos rarely did because he knew how badly it affected Aramis. Usually they would yell at each other until it was out of their systems, or Aramis would hide in his studio until Porthos crept in with cookies or something sweet. This time Aramis doubted that cookies would solve his problems. A metallic grinding side filled the lift. The noise harsh and grating. The lift lurched, causing both men to stumble and grab the railings.

“What the hell?” Porthos said. The elevator shuddered to a halt and the lights flickered once, than shut off, plunging them into darkness. Aramis hated the dark, ever since Savoy. He kept one hand wrapped around the railing and reached into the oppressive darkness. Not caring that Porthos had threatened to punch him earlier. Aramis needed something to ground him, to keep the panic and ghosts at bay. The tips of his fingers brushed Porthos’ arm. The man gave a slight hiss, as if the slightest touch from Aramis burned him.

“What are you doing?” Porthos growled. Aramis froze, the words stuck in his throat. He heard the other man exhale forcefully.“The dark, forgot about that.” Aramis felt Porthos’ larger calloused hand around his wrist, gently tugging him forward. He let go of the railing and allowed himself be pulled into the warm embrace.

“Emergency lights ‘ill kick on in a minute,” Porthos mumbled quietly into Aramis’ hair. “Don’t think that I’m not still mad at you.” Aramis sucked in a quick breath of air. At least they were talking.

“I know,” he replied. He buried his face in the worn jack Porthos always wore, breathing in the comforting scent. Aramis tried to forget that they were fighting. Tried to forget that this time he might have screwed it up beyond repair. That thought made him tighten his grip on Porthos’ jacket. He couldn’t lose Porthos. That would break him.  
They stood that way in the dark for what felt like hours. When the emergency lights flickered to life, Aramis immediately hated them. He kept his grip on the fabric beneath him,his forehead to Porthos’ chest.

“Lights are on,” Porthos remarked. His hands encircling Aramis wrists. “You can let go now.”

“It wasn’t that big of -” Aramis started. He took a step back from Porthos and ran a hand through his hair.

“If you say it wasn’t a big deal,” Porthos growled. “I’m done.” His dark eyes full of anger and something that Aramis suspected was disappointment.  
Aramis swallowed his words and found himself wishing he were anywhere else, but this elevator lift. The walls felt like they were collapsing in, getting smaller by the second. He dropped his gaze and Porthos snorted derisively.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Porthos said.

“Why?” Aramis demanded, riled up now. “Because I find someone other than you attractive? Or is that you’re jealous that-” Porthos grabbed Aramis by the shoulders and shoved him in to the wall of the lift, slamming a hand next to Aramis’ head, cutting of the rest of the sentence with a small hiss of pain.

Aramis sometimes forgot that Porthos could move quick when the he wanted to. With Porthos’ face, mere inches from his own, Aramis could feel the anger radiating from the larger man’s body. He tried to look anywhere but at Porthos’ face. Porthos was having none of that. His other hand came up to grab a handful of Aramis’ long dark hair, forcing the man to meet his gaze.

“This isn’t about that,” Porthos said softly. Far softer than Aramis would have expected from his stormy expression. “This is about the fact that you can’t seem to keep it in your pants when it comes to people who are bad for you.”

“I don’t,” Aramis fumbled for his words. Distracted by the firm, bordering painful, grip on his hair and Porthos’ unrelenting, piercing stare. “There are no bad people for me.” Aramis said.

“What about Adéle?” Porthos demanded. The grip on Aramis’ hair tightened and he winced at the painful tug on his scalp.

“That’s one woman and I blame Richelieu for that-”

“Helen?”

“I – that was her choice. Fuck you,” Aramis snapped. He pushed at Porthos’ large chest with no effect. Damn the man for having the same build as a tank. Aramis could feel his lungs constricting. Damn Porthos for bringing up Helen and Adéle. That was none of his business, but Porthos kept pushing at the wounds.

“Marsac?” Porthos demanded.

“Shut-up,” Aramis snarled. His emotions were already on edge from the fighting. He couldn’t handle the resurfacing of old ghosts.

“And now Anne,” Porthos said. There was no anger in his voice. Aramis’ anger melted at the disappointment, something in his chest constricted painfully.

“She-” Aramis started. He didn’t know what to say. Nothing could possible fix this situation. Aramis could almost feel Porthos slipping further and further away from him.

“What are you gonna do if Louis finds out?” Porthos asked. “What about Richelieu? Jesus Christ, Aramis, you don’t think.”

“They won’t find out,” Aramis said. It was a weak argument and they both knew it.

“I asked you not to,” Porthos said. His eyes full of sadness. “When ‘av I ever asked you to not love someone?”  
Aramis felt like there were iron bars tightening across his chest. “Porthos,” he whispered. Trying to convey how sorry he was that he fucked up, how much he couldn’t bear to have Porthos mad at him.

“Aramis,” Porthos replied. His voice hard and brittle. “Don’t say that you didn’t mean to. Cause we both know that you don’t do anything you don’t mean.” Aramis closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the elevator wall.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, eyes still shut. Porthos sighed heavily and took a step back from Aramis.

“I know you are,” Porthos said. His tone softer. “You always are when you screw up. I just wished you’d stop.” Aramis’ eyes snapped open. Panic flaring to life in his chest.

“What’s going to happen now?” Aramis asked. He tried to keep his voice level. Porthos didn’t reply. Instead, he shuffled his feet and looked away from Aramis. “Porthos, I’m sorry! What else do you want me to say?” There was an edge of desperation in Aramis’ voice.

“There’s not much else you can say,” Porthos said quietly. His gaze still on the floor. Aramis felt his stomach drop. Numbly he slide down the wall, coming to sit on the ground.

“Aramis, I just – I just can’t keep doing this,” Porthos continued. “I can’t keep being your second choice.” His voice was so quiet and he sounded so sad and sorry. Aramis buried his head in the arms, hands gripping tight to his hair. He never pictured his and Porthos’ relationship ending in a broken down elevator.

“Hey guys,” a voice broke from the speaker system broke the oppressive silence. “Sorry about this, we’ll get the elevator fixed and moving shortly.” Porthos moved past Aramis and pushed the call button.

“How long?” He asked gruffly.

“Dunno,” the voice replied. “Whole building’s lift system went dead. We’re tryin’ to figure out what went wrong.”

“How long?” Porthos repeated with an impatient growl.

“Might be an hour or two,” the voice replied. “We’re working on getting some of the lifts opened. The one you’re in is stuck between two floors. You guys good in there for a while?”

“Yeah,” Porthos replied.

“Kay, you guys sit tight. I’ll let you know if anything is about to happen.” There was a click, followed by silence.

“You hear all that?” Porthos asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Aramis said. His arms muffled his reply. Porthos sat down next to him, their shoulders brushing lightly.

“I just need some time to sort my head out,” Porthos muttered. He put his arm around Aramis and tugged him closer. Aramis curled into the larger man’s side, his long fingers curled tightly into the worn jacket. “I’m not asking you to change or nothing,” Porthos continued. “I just need to figure out what I want.” Aramis nodded, his head pressed against Porthos’ broad chest. Porthos pressed a light kiss to the top of Aramis’ head.


End file.
